Page 63 of What If I Hate You
That's so domestic! I'm dying!
Layken
Seriously. I need details. You've been complaining about that man for MONTHS. What changed?
I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my groan. How do I even begin to explain what happened? That I broke down in a bathroom and Barrett found me? That he showed me his secret rescue kitten and revealed he anonymously donates most of his money to help his hometown? That we went from hating each other to… whatever this is… in the span of a single night?
Me
It's complicated. I'll explain later. Promise.
Ella
"Complicated" is code for "the sex was so good I can't think straight"
My cheeks burn because she's not wrong. I'm about to type a response when I feel Barrett stir behind me, his arm tightening around my waist.
"Tell me you're not conducting a press conference from my bed."
I freeze, phone clutched in my hand like evidence of a crime. "I'm not?—"
"Blakely." His arm tightens around me, pulling me back against his chest. "Your shoulders are tense enough to snap. Either you're planning my murder or you're texting someone about last night."
The phone buzzes relentlessly in my hand—my friends losing their collective minds in the group chat. I can practically feel their excitement radiating through the screen.
"Maybe both," I tell him, trying to ignore how good his warm body feels pressed against mine.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into my spine. "Fair enough. I probably deserve the murder after what I did to you on my kitchen floor."
I turn in his arms to face him, and the sight of him in the morning light makes my breath catch. His hair is tousled, there's a pillow crease along his cheek, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. But it's the way he's looking at me—like I'm something precious he's afraid might disappear—that makes my chest tighten.
"About that," I say, suddenly feeling shy despite everything we did last night. "I should probably?—"
My phone buzzes again, and Barrett's eyes flick down to it with amusement.
"Popular this morning?"
I glance at the screen and immediately regret it.
Marlee
IS HE AWAKE? OH MY GOD I’M SQUEALING FOR YOU!
Ella
Me too girl! Go for round 2!
Layken
Round 2? Pshh. Nah, ain’t no way he didn’t give her multiple screaming moments last night. This morning is no doubt round 6 at least!
I slam my phone down on the bed, face flushed with embarrassment. "Just my friends being… my friends."
"Let me guess," Barrett says, propping himself up on one elbow. "They're asking for all the dirty details about our night together?"
"Something like that." I pull the sheet higher. "Marlee was checking on me because she didn’t see me after the game. I guess I missed her texts.”
An awkward silence settles between us. In the harsh light of morning, I'm not sure what to do with this version of Barrett. The one with bed-head and sleepy eyes who looks at me like I'm something he wants to keep.
